


Intervention

by mosymoseys



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosymoseys/pseuds/mosymoseys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Skywalker-Solos stage an intervention on Han’s wardrobe.  Humor verging on crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> I made the joke about Han’s clothes; [Ruby](http://darladeerings.tumblr.com/) envisioned the scene and then made me write it so it’s her fault really. Sorry, I’m not witty enough to really pull this off.

“Han,” Leia said as she took his hand in hers, “you know we’re your family and we love you, right?”

Han gave her a blank look.  “Uh, yes?” he said, trying and spectacularly failing to not to sound like he was responding to the single most blindingly obvious statement he’d ever heard Leia, or anyone else for that matter, make.  It really was the whole family here though, Han realized as he glanced around the room.  Leia sat to his left on the couch, Jaina on his right, and before him stood Luke with Ben at his elbow.  Even Jag and Tahiri were here, lounging against the far wall next to the window.  It was only Allana, on Hapes with her mother at the moment, who was missing.

Han looked back to Leia who gave him a slow, gentle smile.  Han recognized that smile.  It was the one Leia turned on when she was negotiating with particularly, ah, unstable individuals.

“Which is why,” she continued, “we are having this intervention.”

If there were crickets on Shedu Maad, you could have heard them chirping in the silence that followed.  “Huh,” Han finally said.

Instead of answering or elaborating or maybe even _explaining_ , Leia just patted his knee and said, “Come with me,” before leading him by the hand across their living quarters to the bedroom.  The rest of the assembled party trailed after them, not speaking but wearing what Han was pretty sure they imagined to be their lovingly concerned faces.

Leia thumbed a switch and their closet door swung open.  “Han,” she said, “I want you to tell me what you see.”

Han blinked.  Once.  Twice.  “Uh,” he said intelligently, drawing the syllable out for a solid forty seconds.  “A bunch of dresses you don’t wear anymore?” he guessed when he couldn’t stall any longer, mostly on account of his lungs demanding oxygen.

Leia gave a sigh that edged disturbingly close to pitying for Han’s comfort.  “No, Han.   _Your_ side.”

And Han had thought he couldn’t get any more confused.  He glanced around at the rest of his assembled family but found no help from their carefully schooled expression of love and acceptance.  Damned Jedi and their serenity.  How had he ever ended up with an entire family of them?

“My… clothes?” he hazarded lamely.

“I’ll tell you what I see,” Leia offered, just a hint of impatience creeping into her tone.  “I see the same shirt and the same pair of pants and the same _vest_ twenty-six times.”

“Well, yeah,” Han said like it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy only because it was.  “You wouldn’t want me to keep wearing the same dirty clothes over and over, would you?”

“That’s not the point, Han,” said Leia, trying to discretely rub her temple, and Han could feel himself getting testy at that.  Why should _she_ be the one with the headache?  Han was the one who had just been inexplicably ambushed by his entire extended family and was now being interrogated as to the contents of his wardrobe.  If anyone was entitled to feeling exasperated and put out right now, it was him.  “The point _is_ ,” Leia continued, “that it’s the _same_ _outfit_.  Twenty-six times.  And you’ve been wearing this – the aforementioned same outfit – Every.  Day.  Since we met.”

“And?”

“And that was forty-six years ago!”  That was Luke, interjecting himself into the conversation at last. 

“Hey, why mess with perfection?” Han countered, making the conscious and wretchedly noble decision to take the high road and _not_ point out that fashion advice was pretty rich coming from the kid who wore the same generic brown Jedi robes every day.  Of course Luke hadn’t _quite_ been wearing them for four straight decades, and they _were_ sort of an officially unofficial uniform, but still.

“Dad,” Jaina finally spoke, taking his other hand – the one that wasn’t currently wrapped in Leia’s – and giving it a squeeze.  “We’ve talked about it and we all agree:  It’s time for a change.”

Han’s eyes swept the room once more, searching this time for support but finding instead only the entire family nodding their traitorous agreement with Jaina.  

Ben’s nod was especially and worryingly vigorous.  “I’ll go get the flash heater,” he said.


End file.
